


The Art of Stakeout

by moriann



Category: The Heat (2013)
Genre: #Yulechat Challenge, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Stakeout, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:07:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriann/pseuds/moriann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashburn's first few stakeouts in Boston include the musical stylings of Meat Loaf, opinions on food cart cuisine, seedy motels, and exploitation of naive rookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Stakeout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salifiable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salifiable/gifts).



"No. Absolutely not," Ashburn says, and she lunges for the radio, only to have her hands slapped away.

"Yes. Stay away from the buttons," says Mullins, one hand still holding up the binoculars and watching the warehouse entrance.

"You can’t be serious. Again?"

Mullins puts down the binoculars and turns in her seat.

"It's a fucking musical masterpiece, all goddamn twelve minutes of it, and as long as you’re a passenger in my car, you're gonna sit back and appreciate the genius of Meat Loaf."

Ashburn groans, and leans back in her seat.

"Next time we have to go on a stakeout, we're taking my car," she says, "and what we're going to listen to will be blessed silence." She winces as the motorcycle noises start up.

"You know," starts Mullins, "I think I have another CD here somewhere. If you're just gonna hate on the perfect stakeout soundtrack, you could switch to that one."

"Please, god, anything other than the fifth replay of _Bat out of Hell_ ," says Ashburn and digs through the glove box, pretending not to hear the grumbled _It's_ Bat out of Hell II _, you heathen_. Under a thick layer of random detritus, she finds an unlabeled CD, so she takes it out and, after seeing the layer of crumbs stuck to it, wipes it on her pants before popping it into the player. "What's on this one?" she asks as the CD boots up.

" _Don’t Stop Believing_."

"And?"

"And fifteen different covers of it," says Mullins, grinning widely, and she turns up the volume.

"Fuck."

––-

Another case, another stakeout. Ashburn thinks fondly of the times her cases did not require sitting in a cramped car, eating awful take out and being subjected to increasingly surreal conversations to pass the time. At least the damn stereo was broken this time.

"Fugliest place in the city, go!" calls Mullins.

"The street in front of your precinct, that technicolor food cart makes me want to claw out my eyes every time I have to go by," answers Ashburn. "Not to mention the smell, what do they cook, old socks in Axe sauce?"

"They have the best hot dogs this side of the river, how do you still not know that?!" says Mullins with exaggerated incredulity.

"Because I like to eat food that does not pose a threat to the public safety."

"If we weren’t waiting for the damn fence to show his ugly mug, I’d be turning this car around and taking us straight there."

"Yeah, no, let's skip that. Boston eyesores, your turn." Ashburn hopes that the hot dogs will be forgotten by the time they get back to the precinct.

"City Hall, no fucking contest."

"Wait a minute, the City Hall? That's a masterpiece of brutalist architecture! It's fucking wasted on this town, with your inability to appreciate any building that's not old as balls."

"High five, partner!" Mullins holds up her hand and keeps waggling her eyebrows at her until she complies."It's a bullshit opinion and fucking wrong, but at least you're finally loosening up getting into the stakeout spirit! Woohoo!" shouts Mullins.

Ashburn hangs down her head and lets it thunk against the dashboard. "Kill me now."

"No, no, no, we're on a roll here. We just need to think of another one. I know! Fuck, marry, kill, that's a great one."

"I'm beginning to miss the damn Meat Loaf."

–––-

"We have the location, but our informant didn’t know when the meet will happen, so we might need to stake out the place," says Captain Woods, and Ashburn immediately throws her hands in front of her.

"Not me, I'm not pulling another all-nighter in a car."

"It is your case," comes from somewhere in the group of uniforms gathered along the back wall of the conference room. "You should lead by example."

"Who invited the fucking peanut gallery?" says Mullins in a theatrical whisper. She looks at the photos of the motel spread on the table. "Sure, we can get a room and watch from there instead of from a car," she says, kicking Ashburn under the table when she opens her mouth to protest, and then continues, "but you know, it looks like we might need a second team to cover the whole parking lot and entrances. Say, here and here," she points to two spots on the sidewalk opposite the motel.

The captain sighs.

"It's out in the open, it's a terrible spot," he says and, for a moment, Ashburn feels hopeful that the whole plan will get scrapped.

"A terrible spot for a cop, yeah, but I bet that with a bit of effort one of the wiseasses in the back would make a great hobo." She spins her chair around to face the suddenly quiet cops and throws up finger guns at them. "Enjoy your evening out in the freezing wind, dickheads."

Well, at least they won’t be stuck in the car this time. Thank god for small mercies.

–––-

She was never going to complain about being stuck in a car again. At least being stuck in the car was pretty straightforward. She already had a hang of it. This was shaping up to be a whole new disaster.

"So, what's our story?" asks Mullins, as they're getting out of the car in the motel's parking lot.

"Story?" 

"Y’know, legend. Why we're there, who we are, that sorta thing," she explains. "No offence, but you still haven’t learned how to relax and not look like you're about to bust out handcuffs and arrest warrants."

"We're here on a stakeout, we're getting a room with a good view of the parking lot, no one's going to ask about our damn backstory," says Ashburn. She hears a soft _Uh oh_ and she silently counts to ten, then to twenty for good measure. When nothing more comes, she looks at Mullins, who's taking a suspiciously clunky duffel bag out of the trunk. It hits the bumper with a metallic clang. "Is that your FN PS90 in there?" she hisses.

"It sure is," answers Mullins. "I always take it with me on stakeouts. It's the cop equivalent of a security blanket. I also have two sets of night vision goggles and a snorkel, you will not _believe_ the deal I got on them on eBay."

"...let's just go rent the room before you start the show and tell," Ashburn says as she walks to the front desk, hoping for no unexpected improvisation from Mullins.

The man is watching a baseball game on his TV and is barely paying any attention to her as he passes her a room key and takes her money. That is, he's paying no attention until Mullins comes up behind her, slaps her ass and loudly asks, "Hey, sweetie pie, do you have the key?"

_That_ gets him to take his eyes off the screen and give them a once-over. Ashburn quickly turns around and screws her face in what she hopes is the universal sign for _What the hell are you doing?_ What she gets in return is an overdone leer and a wink at the receptionist.

"We're in a hurry, her husband gets back from his business trip tomorrow morning and I want to get a few quality orgasms before then," Mullins tells him in a confidential tone, which gets her a return wink and enthusiastic thumbs up.

Ashburn manages to hold out until they're behind closed doors in their room, but then she turns around and pokes Mullins with her finger.

"What the hell was that?" she asks.

"That, partner, was not only a brilliant cover for us, but also fifty dollars from a very gullible rookie on the task force." 

"What?"

"Somehow they've all managed to miss the fact that you're not such a robot anymore, and they keep offering me those sucker bets. I’d be stupid not to take their money."

"Was the Meat Loaf a bet too?"

"Easiest twenty bucks I've ever made," says Mullins, grinning. "Tell you what, there's another fifty in the bet if the receptionist still believes the story when we check out."

**Author's Note:**

> With countless thanks to champignon for beta.


End file.
